


Just a Moment for You and Me

by semisweet



Category: Medium
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-31
Updated: 2009-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-07 04:58:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semisweet/pseuds/semisweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The difficulties of finding time for each other for two parents with time-consuming jobs and three children at home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Moment for You and Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story based upon the fictional Dubois family. Written for the prompt _Allison/Joe, bathtub_ for the livejournal challenge [smallfandomfest](http://community.livejournal.com/smallfandomfest/).

* * *

Joe's never been so eager to come home. After a long day of engineering-related problems, he's always glad to go back to the down-to-earth and mind-resting small conflicts of a house of five – including four individuals of the female kind, he, king of his own jungle, and tonight, the queen apparently has a surprise for him.

"Hey, Daddy!" Bridgette greets him, and she turns back her eyes in the direction of the colorful screen, without noticing the huge grin on her father's face.

"Where's Mommy?" he asks cheerfully, giving away his good mood.

"Right here!" Allison says, walking to the kitchen with an enormous stack of laundry. "Ariel's giving Marie her bath. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes."

He throws a look at his watch, and according to his calculations, T minus an hour and fifteen minutes until the girls' bedtime.

During dinner, he has trouble concentrating on what Bridgette is saying, maybe because she's always speaking, and sometimes, he can't help it, his thoughts wander off on their own. It might also be Allison's fault, who back in her sweet sixteen, sends him falsely frightened looks, and plays footsie under the table. Slightly embarrassed and horny, he has to admit, he doesn't notice Ariel barely touching her plate and going to bed thirty minutes early.

Finally, Joe has Allison all to himself, and now, he hesitates. He's been waiting for this instant ever since she called him around three just before she left to pick the girls at school. Installed on the couch, she appears to be listening to the news report. He joins her there, sitting at a safe enough distance, and observes her. He knows she doesn't like people staring at her, and he's right.

She asks instantly, "what is it?"

"I thought you had a surprise for me?" His hand reaches for her, and finds the fingers of the hand she offers him.

"I'm not sure you deserve it." She cannot resist his miserable expression more than five seconds. "You're a born comedian, you know that! Come over here."

He moves closer, and switches off the Deputy Mayor's discourse. They don't need any distraction. They make their way to their bedroom, and despite their familiarity with the place, they bump in the walls, attached by the deep kiss they don't want to break.

"We have a private bathroom. Let's take advantage of it, Joe," she suggests, and the idea makes his eyes sparkle with joy. She doesn't have time to turn on the faucet when the phone rings. Joe lets her go and reappears with the receiver. "Devalos for you."

"Good evening, sir," she politely answers as she changes room leaving her faintly annoyed husband behind.

Joe runs the water for the bath, as he does for Allison sometimes, and ultimately goes back to their bed, where she is in deep conversation with the District Attorney. Getting impatient, Joe decides to remind his wife of their plan by caressing her forearm, dropping kisses on her soft skin, when a shriek alerts them both.

In a flash, Joe arrives in the girls' bedroom. "What's going on?" he asks, alarmed.

"Daddy, there's a spider in the sink." Bridgette replies matter-of-factly.

Ariel, on the other hand, stands still by the door, looking like she is about to pass out. "Get rid of it, Daddy, please."

Joe's not easily scared which, with a medium for a wife, is a good thing, but insects! He hates them. Bridgette seems fascinated, curious as she is, and Joe doesn't have the courage to end the poor bug's life. Explaining to his children that the smooth surface of the sink makes it impossible for the intruder to escape fails completely, and he cannot be angry with Ariel, he would react the same way, so he manages to get the bug inside a glass and sets it free by throwing it off the window. While Bridgette is saying her farewell to her new friend, Ariel raises her eyebrows, tired of her sister's antics.

"Is everything alright, Ariel?" Joe asks as he helps her get back in bed, and tucks her in the blankets.

"I feel queasy, and my head aches."

"Let me see." He presses the back of his hand to his daughter's forehead. "I don't think you're feverish."

"Can you get Mommy for me?"

"I'll ask her to come, but she might be in her bath, now."

"Thank you, Daddy."

"Try to get some rest, okay. Both of you."

*  
* * *

  


Joe finds Allison lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling as though it disguised the most magnificent landscape one could imagine. "I thought I'd found you all naked, and full of bubbles."

She laughs. "I had a feeling you'd prefer to unwrap your toy yourself."

"Yeah, that's not untrue. I'm still a child deep inside." Joe smiles. "Unfortunately, this will have to wait another five minutes. Ariel's not feeling well. She asks for you."

"Don't go in without me! I'll be right back," Allison insists, standing up to reach the corridor, sending Joe a last loving and lustful look as she closes the door behind her.

Joe lies down on the bed, stretching his entire body on the soft material of the bedspread, his eyes scrutinizing the ceiling. After five minutes, decidedly unable to say what appears so captivating about it, he settles on finding out what is taking the woman so long.

Joe considers himself close to his daughters. When he sees Allison and Ariel together, he feels a twinge of sadness or regret, or possibly jealousy. Like mother, like daughter, physically and emotionally. Not to mention the unique gene that made Ariel and her sisters special. He would blame the X chromosome another time. Tonight, his hormones are overpowering his reasoning. Together, Joe and Allison bid Ariel a goodnight, reassured that the teenage girl is not running a fever.

When they finally join the bedroom, Joe makes it clear what has been on his mind all night. Kissing Allison eagerly, he quickly gets rid of the blouse and bra that are getting in his way. He can feel Allison's breasts pressed on his chest.

"Wait a second!" She points at the bottle of champagne and box of chocolates she has brought. In the candlelit semi-dark bathroom, Joe hadn't even notice the delicacies, his interest residing somewhere else entirely. Mesmerized by Allison's generous curves, he steps forward to quench the burning desire of touching her. "I don't want champagne or chocolate. All I want is you, Al."

Eyes closed, faces close, lips touching, fingers searching for buttons to undo, zippers to open, they finally let go of undesired clothing, and relish in the tender comfort of nakedness.

Their eyes reopened to the natural vision of belonging to each other entirely, no foray of nudity breached, a silent understanding, and Joe's caresses reassure Allison of the healthy state of their intimacy.

Teasingly, she shifts the weight of her body from his tight grip, and plunges her foot in the bathtub water, her toes penetrating vanishing bubbles. She lets out a yelp, the sound escaping her lips making Joe freeze as she loses her balance and almost treads on his feet. "It's freezing cold!"

The expression on his face is one of comedy, and on any other occasion, she might have made him pay the slight mockery, but she's not in the mood to take a bath either. "It's cold in here. Would you pass me that towel to warm me up?" she says feigning to stretch her arm, which he intercepts.

"Come closer. Body heat is all you need, unless you'd rather hide under the covers," Joe murmurs.

"Can't I have both? You and I. Naked. Under the covers." She jumps on him, encircling her legs around his waist, Joe's hands a firm grasp around her own, her mouth around his lips, as their bodies intermingle on the sheets, her sighs of contentment eclipsing his 'I love you.'

*  
* * *

  
Allison wakes up with a start fifteen minutes after five, and doesn't dare waking Joe who needs his rest after the passionate love they made a few hours earlier. She closes her eyes trying to remember the intensity of that moment, picturing them naked, united, sweaty skin and heartbeat racing. Hanging on to such a memory will help her forget the horrendous images that have perturbed her night for good. She can identify the dreams that take away her sleep.

Sighing and shivering, Allison puts on a nightgown, and leaves the bedroom. Thirty minutes past five and she feels lonely. The dourness of silence troubles her, a scarcity with three children at home, and she shivers. In a glow of enthusiasm, she decides to prepare breakfast, only to doze off even before she has decided what to cook.

In her semi-asleep daze, she senses a presence. It takes her a few seconds to realize the night visitor is of flesh and blood. Joe has developed a sixth sense of his own; he cannot sleep without his wife's body next to him. It could seem adorable, or preposterous, but the reality is much less pleasant. Each time he wakes up, and she isn't there, his heart starts to beat faster, his mind starts to think harder, until he makes sure she is safe and sound somewhere in the house. Ever since, he found her yelling in the highway in heavy traffic in the middle of the night, he is terrified of the slight possibility that it happens again.

Unsteadily, he moves towards her and kisses her cheek, but she protests when he tries to get her to come back to bed with him.

"Allison, please, we can at least get an hour of sleep."

"Well, you go get some rest, and I'll stay here. Don't you see I'm busy?"

"You should be busy sleeping. If in five minutes, you're not back in bed, I'll come get you, and I'll employ force if necessary."

She doesn't hear him come back three minutes later. She doesn't hear him tell her to follow him. She doesn't hear him count to three as he does sometimes when the girls fight. She feels his arms around her, lifting her up, and she half-opens an eye, and whispers his name. She trusts him with her children, with her life, she can trust him with her well-being as well, and she likes it when he is in control and takes care of her, protecting her from her inner demons.

So she let slumber wraps her in his comforting arms. Allison believes Joe was right. Each dream is a new dream; maybe this one is worth dreaming and enjoying. In this weightless heaven, where it smells of coconut and vanilla, delight prevails. Worries melt in the warmth of optimism. There is no evil, no cruelty, only blissful emotions and the quietness of absolute tranquility. She feels the fabric of her nightclothes slipping away from her body, and the hot sensation of water running down her hair, the tickle of droplets in her neck, soft breaths on her shoulder.

Enlightenment spreads soon enough. She hasn't been dreaming. This is all Joe's doing. The pleasurable moment of taking a bath with her husband finally reaches her mind: the paradise is the bathroom, the pleasant scents the shower gel and shampoo, the happiness Joe softly massaging her body, lingering on her breast.

Sometimes, reality surpasses even the best dream.

  
_The End_   



End file.
